Until
by madisonwrites
Summary: Anastasia is doing her best to graduate with honors. This means no boys, no distractions, and no trouble. Until her father double-crosses Christian Grey. And no one double-crosses Christian Grey. As revenge, he steals her away and holds her for ransom. Neither of them predict in the short time that they spend together they will find themselves falling in love. AU.


I open my eyes to a dark room.

Looking around, true panic rises in my throat, choking the very breath in my lungs.

 _Where am I?_

My eyes scan the room. A shudder ripples across my body at the chilly temperature. Strange for the mild April season.

The low ceiling light barely provides any visible light. In the dimness of the room, I realize I'm in trouble.

Real bad trouble.

I lick my suddenly dry lips and taste the sweetness of my chapstick on my lips.

Turning this way and that, I pick up I'm in a room with red brick walls, a metal door, and nothing else. Twisting my wrists, it's a no brainer that my hands are tied behind me with some sort of rope.

 _How very cliché._

The pain shooting up my neck prevents me from looking back to see if I can escape. Whoever grabbed me had all the grace of a gorilla, snatching me by my neck and shoving it into the plush seat of the carseat while telling me to "fucking shut up or else."

I'm no idiot. I kept my mouth closed until I could get a chance to escape.

Too bad the chloroform knocked me out.

I don't have time for this. I have two papers and a project due soon and finals are coming up. My grades are my life. I have given up too much to let myself slip now.

I pray that this is just some horrible prank or joke. But the more time passes by, the more I realize that I am in the very situation I have tried so hard to avoid all throughout university.

Trouble.

And as a daughter of the Steele family, trouble always has a way of finding me no matter where I run.

 _This can't be happening._

I look around in annoyance for any way for me to escape. Tugging on the ropes holding my wrists, I huff in frustration when I can't do anything.

Settling back, I try to formulate a plan to escape. Nothing comes to mind.

With a slow creak, a door opens several feet away from me and light floods the room.

A man in a suit enters.

A very well built man with wide shoulders and a build that is only accentuated by the tailored suit.

I chew my bottom lip and increase my efforts to escape by twisting my wrists because I know that tall and imposing man approaching me. His confident walk and those eyes. The eyes of a predator.

My heart sinks into my chest as dozens of frightening scenarios run through my head at how this evening just may go. And none of them end with a happy ending.

"Don't try escaping. It won't work," his low, dark voice immediately alerts my senses to his presence.

That voice is hard to forget. I've never been able to erase him from my memory.

His name sticks in my throat.

It is really him. I can't believe it.

A cruel smirk twists his well formed lips. He stops before me and reaches out to caress my jaw.

I turn abruptly to the other side to avoid his touch. I remember too clearly how I melt in his touch. His touch scalds me. I crave his touch.

And he abhors mine.

I sneak a glance at him, confused by his actions.

 _He's reaching out to touch me? I must be dreaming._

I scoff to pretend indifference, but inside, my liquids have turned to mush. And a low heat spreads across my lower belly. I react to him in ways I've never reacted to a man before.

But of course he doesn't notice.

I turn to stare at him, feeling the heat of his gaze on me.

His eyes burn but there is no passion in the depths of his eyes.

Cold, fury reflects back at me.

 _Christian._

I want to ask him what's wrong but I hold my tongue firm. I always say the wrong things around him. My silly crush scrambles my brain and disconnects the filter between my brain and mouth. He has that affect on me.

It's hard to deny what the heart wants. The heart wants what it wants, despite what my brain says.

He chuckles darkly and grabs my chin with deliberate force, allowing me no choice but to look up at him.

I glare back.

"You know why you're here, Anastasia." He leans down and I get a close look at the man who has charmed the world with his power and wealth.

Except me. After _that night_ , I've only gotten coldness from him. Cold and hard, his eyes glint down at me.

My mind flashes back to _that_ night when everything changed.

 _What would that night have to do with anything?_

I frown. "I don't know why I'm here. I haven't seen you in nearly a year," I whisper. I missed him the whole year like an idiot. But I would rather bite my tongue than tell him that.

 _I missed you, Christian. More than you will ever know._

"Lies don't suit you," he bites out and drops his hand from my chin. He steps back and crosses his muscular arms across his chest, the suit does little to hid his powerful figure.

I exhale the breath I held in my chest.

"I don't know why I'm here. Honest. Your men came and just grabbed me from my apartment. Please, tell me. Why am I here?" I ask in a hushed tone, watching him warily. I twist my arms, trying again to escape. I need to get out of here. Warning bells go off in my head urging me to escape now.

In my heart, I know it's no use. These ropes are tight and done by an expert and I'm only going to scrape my wrists raw with all my efforts, but I can't give up yet.

"Drop the fucking act, Anastasia!" Christian shouts and descends upon me, gripping my shoulders in a deathly grip, he shakes me. "Where the fuck is it?"

His hot breath against my face makes me tremble inside.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I shout back, tears welling up in my eyes as panic grips my chest that those rumors I never paid any attention to were true after all.

He's a genius, philanthropist, playboy, and one of the wealthiest men in the world.

But he's also one of the most dangerous men.

Christian Grey is mad and anyone with more than two brains cells knows better to get tangled up with him.

His eyes narrow and he scans my face. His gaze drops down towards my breasts heaving due to the fire coursing through my bloodstream. A wicked gleam enters his eyes.

With the lightest touch, he traces a path with his index finger down to the valley between my breasts. My inner muscles clench at his touch, I arch my body into his touch.

I want more.

He grins, but it's all teeth. There's no warmth in the look he is giving me.

"This is how it is going to go, Anastasia. You tell me everything you know about where my money went. And I'll let you go. Simple and clean. There is no need for this to get messy."

I gulp audibly.

"But—" his hand slides up to my neck, and with deliberate slowness, his hand encloses around my throat. The lightest of pressure is applied. It is in no way strong enough to hurt or choke me, but enough for me to get the message.

My eyes widen as a single lone tear slips down my face.

He holds the power here. And I need to listen. Or else.

"If you don't. I can't promise you anything." His cold tone freezes my heart in my chest.

"I don't know anything! I don't even know what you're talking about right now. What money?" my voice ends on a whimper, my chest about to collapse from the worry and fear thundering through my veins.

He chuckles, the empty sound echoing throughout the small room like a dark omen.

"Why are you playing games with me?" he asks. His eyes search mine, his imploring gaze bringing up a million questions in my mind. Something flickers in his gaze. Suspicion? Doubt? I'm not sure but suddenly his hand releases my neck and he steps back.

"The five billion your father _stole_ from me. You cannot have known nothing about it?" he asks with deep suspicion coating his words.

I gasp.

This is the first time I've even heard of something like this. No wonder he's angry. I can't even wrap my mind around what he said. Did my father really steal from him? But why? And most importantly, how? My family may be powerful but we're nothing in comparison to him.

My father can't have had the resources to steal from him, could he? And what does this have to do with me? I haven't seen my father since Christmas and I've never known anything about his business dealings.

I was safer being kept in the dark.

Until now.

I have to make him believe me. I don't know anything about this. He's asking the wrong person.

He raises an eyebrow at my silence.

I shake my head slowly. "I don't know anything about this, Christian. I promise."

Biting my lower lip, I drag another breath into my chest.

The air is thick with tension. His mistrust and suspicion and my fear swirl together in the toxic atmosphere.

"If you want to play this game, I'll play." Any hint of emotion drops from his face. A cold mask descends upon his features.

"I'm not playing games! I don't know anything about this. It's the truth!" I plead. "Please, let me talk to my father? I'll ask him. He'll explain everything. There has to be some misunderstanding."

He barks a cold laugh.

Then his hands slam behind me and grips the metal chair. He scoots me to him, bending over me. My head tips back to look at his face.

"I told you, lying doesn't suit you."

I lick my lips. His eyes dip down to watch my movement.

One warm hand cups my jaw, gentle but firm. I hold myself back from turning into his touch. There's nothing more I want to do. This close to him, _that night_ returns to my memory crystal clear.

"In the meantime, you are staying here with me."

I inhale sharply. "What do you mean?"

He smirks and his hand pulls my head closer to him. I crane my neck, not wanting to lose the connection to him. I must be a fool.

"Until your family returns my money, I get to keep the jewel of the Steele family. They have two weeks." His lips curve slowly into a smile.

"For the time being, you're mine, Anastasia," he whispers in a husky, intense tone.

His lips capture mine into a bruising and crushing kiss. He overpowers me with his sensual touch, showing me why women are willing to throw themselves at him.

He kisses with all the expert finesse I expected of him, showing me with his hungry movements that the boys I've kissed before knew nothing about how to kiss a woman.

This is a true kiss.

His kiss should be the definition of what kisses are.

Hot, wicked, and delicious as hell. They make me feel as if I'm lost and I don't want to be found.

He cups my jaw and neck with both of his hands, turning my face to mold me to his kisses.

My hands itch to grab him and push myself closer to his touch. I want everything.

I want to know everything about him.

A fire burns in my lower belly as hot liquid heat coils in my sex.

My senses are going to burn me alive.

His lips are softer than I expected. And his kiss shatters all my imaginations and fantasies of what it would be like to kiss him.

I moan into his mouth, my lips parting ever so slightly and giving him the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth.

My eyes pop open at the touch of his tongue. But they soon flutter closed as I respond with equal hunger at the intoxicating taste of his tongue.

The hungry urgency in his kiss is making me lose my mind. The all engulfing heat makes me want to ask him for more.

A knock at the door breaks the spell between us.

He pulls away slowly and I whimper at the loss.

We're both breathing heavily as if we ran a marathon. My eyelids slowly lift open to see his hard, hungry face.

I bite down on my swollen lips, trembling at the realization of what just passed between us.

The knock repeats on the door.

"Mr. Grey?" the muffled male voice calls from behind the door.

Christian scowls and twists away. "What is it?" he shouts, his voice low and thick with passion.

"Phone call from the Steele family. They wish to speak to you."

He pauses and sighs. "Leave!" he yells.

Silence fills the room. He stares down at me with evident hunger in his eyes.

I tremble, feeling as if a live wire is coursing through my body.

His thumb strokes my jaw absentmindedly. I lick my lips, wanting a repeat of what just happened.

With no warning, he drops his hands and turns away.

I hold back the urge to call him. Even though I want to with every fiber of my being.

He turns back when he's at the door and looks at me. His eyes haven't lost the dark look to them. "I'll send someone to help you with your bindings. Meet me in my study." His hand at his side clenches into a fist.

I nod drunkenly, still feeling the lingering after effects of his thorough kiss.

He raises a brow and then smiles, a genuine smile that lights up his whole face. The same smile that drew me to him like a moth to a flame even knowing that I would only get burned as a result. He has a dangerous effect on my rationality.

"It was nice to see you again, Anastasia."

He leaves but my eyes continue to stare at the door for a few months after. My mind is reeling.

I exhale and squeeze my eyes shut. I'm not sure if what just happened was real.

It feels like the mixture of a dream and a nightmare.

A dream because I never thought I would see Christian again. Not after _that night_. A nightmare because this is the worst situation to see him again. I would never have imagined this could happen.

 _You're mine, Anastasia._

I shiver at the memory of his statement.

There is nothing I want more. No one compares to him. But I know I will never have all of him.

He doesn't believe in relationships.

And I need more than just a part of him, no matter what my heart and hormones say.

I sigh, the sound loud in the small room.

I need to stay away from him. I have to keep my thoughts focused on what matters. Getting out of here alive and with my heart in one piece so that I can return back to studying and working on graduating with honors.

I wait for whatever lackey Christian hired to come and release me from these bindings.

And then it'll be time to go see which direction the rest of the night takes: a dream or a nightmare.

My gut feeling says nightmare.


End file.
